Hurt, Afraid, Frustrated, Miserable, and Angry
by NuqueerWarhead
Summary: Haestrom. Cerberus. The trial. The Alarei. The collector base. Tali is hurt, proud, afraid, confident, frustrated, brave, miserable, hopeful, angry, and so very strong. This is her perspective throughout the events of ME2. Includes missions and action, downtime on the Normandy, the comrades who give her strength, and the Cerberus bosh'tets she has to learn to like.
1. Sen and Hesesh

Walking out the observatory doors I am greeted by light – light that has traveled an hour from a dying star to a centuries-dead colony world, and reflected off the mangled chestplate of a bullet-shredded geth, a geth that might've killed one of my people… might've killed me, if not for Shepard. I hate this place. I _hate_ this place.

Good, loyal marines, my _friends,_ died so that I could get data on Dholen, Haestrom's star. And I couldn't even say whether or not this data is worth _anything._ I could've… I could've done something. I could've saved _someone,_ couldn't I?

Keelah, this colossus, Shepard put a lot of holes in it. Even with so much it blasted off I can tell it's been modified extensively compared to the ones we faced two years ago. I can see a few fabricators built into its chassis; those are probably part of a self repair system. I don't think I could pry them out, at least not quickly – this area is still dangerous – so I'll have to get some omni-tool scans to send back to Father.

That reminds me. I turn to Reegar. "Reegar, one last thing."

He does his best to stand at attention despite being wounded. "Ma'am?"

"The… The dead, what do I…?"

"I'll give my report to the Admiralty Board, and they'll send officers to notify the families in person." He pauses, then adds in a sympathetic tone, "You don't need to do anything else."

I thank him, and he heads off to rendezvous with the few remaining marines and scientists for extraction.

Behind me, Shepard calls out to one of her people. "Jack, can you come here a second?"

Jack is a bald, half-naked, heavily tattooed woman with a shotgun currently amusing herself by kicking a disembodied geth head around with her biotics. Shepard has to repeat herself before she complies.

"Jack," says Shepard, "this is Tali. She's our best technical expert, so she'll be spending a lot of time in engineering. She helped me a lot in the fight against Saren and I'd like it if you two were on friendly terms."

Jack rolls her eyes. "Sure. Whatever."

"Tali, this is Jack. She's a powerful biotic. She is _not_ Cerberus personnel – you can trust her." She nods towards a toppled stone pillar, where a turian is sitting and familiarizing himself with a geth plasma rifle. "And of course you already know Garrus." She calls out to him, "Are you going to come say hello?"

"I'd love to, Shepard, but you never let me do the talking." He walks over and shakes my hand. "It's good to have you back, Tali."

Garrus is a good man, but we've had some… philosophical differences in the past, and he wasn't all that nice about it. "Thanks for being here," I say sincerely.

He shifts his feet, looks over his shoulder at nothing in particular, and then slowly, "I wish we'd gotten here sooner."

"Thanks."

While we wait for the shuttle I'm able to take a few scans and grab a few geth pieces. It… it helps. To take my mind off things.

A Cerberus shuttle passes over the observatory and touches down nearby. I'm hesitant to board. It flies Cerberus colors and bears a Cerberus logo… this shuttle cannot possibly take me anywhere I want to go. I take a deep breath before following the others.

When the cabin is pressurized Jack removes her breath mask and Shepard and Garrus their helmets. Garrus has a web of scars all across the right side of his face, only partly covered by a large bandage that runs all the way under the collar of his armor. So much of his skin is _gone_. What happened?

He catches me staring. "Anti-tank missile. No big deal."

"Anti-_tank_ missile," I repeat, skeptically. "How did that happen?"

"The short version is that every merc on Omega tried to kill me all at once, and when all but about ten of them were dead they finally hit me."

I laugh, somehow. "You are such a liar."

"Well, Shepard was there too."

That makes sense, then.

"He shot me," she adds with disinterest.

"Me and a thousand other people, Shepard," he says.

The sound of the cargo bay repressurizing isn't quite right. The ship doesn't say, 'Commanding officer is aboard. XO Pressly stands relieved.' The drive core's gentle 'shuum' sound has been replaced by a rougher whirring – maybe that'll help me sleep. I _hope_ that'll help me sleep.

Shepard is first off the shuttle. "Edie," she says to no one in particular.

A VI's metallic voice echoes through the cargo bay. "Yes, Shepard?"

"Have Miranda meet us in the conference room for debriefing."

"Yes, Shepard."

It occurs to me that I haven't slept in… maybe two days. Geth attacks have a way of keeping people awake. Keelah, I am so tired I almost trip getting off the shuttle.

Garrus catches me firmly by the arm. "You alright?"

"Just… tired."

"We have actual beds now, instead of those crap sleep pods."

"I need to get my duties squared away first." Captain Shepard has accepted me onto her ship and it would be wrong to take advantage of her hospitality right away. "Beds though, huh?"

He laughs. "Yeah. Who'd have thought? Cerberus too soft for military cots."

I snicker. "You'd think it's some Noverian executive yacht, especially considering they slap their logo on everything." I swear I can see ten Cerberus logos just in this room. "Like we were going to forget who we're working with."

Shepard turns back to me with a look I can't figure out. Worried? Angry?

"Edie," she says, "send Jacob instead."

* * *

I don't believe this. Shepard is wearing a Cerberus uniform. It's seriously unsettling.

And this must be Jacob. He's very well groomed considering the difficulties of life on a ship, and in excellent physical shape even for a soldier. If I had to guess what that means I'd say he's either disciplined or vain. Either would be dangerous in a Cerberus operative. "Cerberus saw footage of you in action, Tali'Zorah," he says. "Looking forward to having you on the team. Your engineering expertise will really benefit the mission."

I think I recognize him from Freedom's Progress – he wanted to hand Veetor over to Cerberus 'interrogators.' He said that Veetor would be returned unharmed, which means he's an idiot, or thinks I am. "I don't know who you are, but Cerberus threatened the security of the Migrant Fleet. Don't make nice."

Trying to defuse the tension, Shepard says, very calmly, "That's why you're here, Tali. I need people who aren't Cerberus, people I can trust."

She can't possibly believe she can keep these people in line.

"I wasn't part of what happened to the Migrant Fleet," says Jacob, leaning against the table, "but I understand your distrust. I hope we'll get past that as we work together."

That's a nice thing to say – 'yeah, we killed some of your people but it wasn't my fault and I hope you'll get over it.' Bosh'tet.

"I assumed that you were undercover, Shepard. Maybe even planning to blow Cerberus up. If that's the case, I'll loan you a grenade. Otherwise, I'm here for you, not for them."

Shepard tells me to make myself at home, and Jacob offers to get me the proper security clearance.

On my way out I give Shepard one last warning. "Remember Shepard, these people thought enslaving thorian creepers and rachni was a good idea. I'll be in engineering."

Not quite done being horrible, Jacob tells me to introduce myself to EDI, the ship's _new AI._ Maybe I spoke too soon; maybe enslaving thorian creepers and rachni _is_ a good idea, compared to putting an AI in charge of your _life support systems_. This thing will kill them all, and they'll deserve it.

A young human woman with short, red hair and greenish eyes stops me at the elevator. "Miss vas Neema," she says. "I'm Yeoman Kelly Chambers. If I could have a few minutes of your time, to help you get settled in…"

"I know my way around the Normandy." I step onto the elevator, but she holds the door.

"Crew quarters have changed. Deck three, toward the stern. If you have any questions you can come to me, or there's Gabby Daniels in engineering. She'll get you up to speed."

I don't say anything.

She pauses a moment, and adds, "Joker is on the bridge, Dr. Chakwas is in the med bay, and Garrus is usually working on the main battery – crew deck, toward the bow." She releases the door.

"Thanks." I don't really mean it.

* * *

Engineer Daniels is an energetic woman, I don't know how old, I still don't know human years, but probably younger than Shepard. Bright skin, brown eyes and short, brown hair, she'd look naturally friendly if not for the Cerberus uniform. As she walks me through the changes from the old systems it's clear she's very knowledgeable and passionate about her work. Her shift for today is already over, so she's only here right now for my sake.

With her is Engineer Kenneth Donnely, a more relaxed man, also with pale skin, brown eyes, and brown hair – I really wish fewer humans were pale with brown hair, it's so much easier to tell them apart when they're different colors. They should paint their faces like turians. But I probably won't confuse Donnely with any other human men, because when he speaks my translator gives him an unusual accent.

"I'm excited to see what you can do," says Daniels. "Shepard's told us a lot about you."

That's odd. "Does Shepard spend a lot of time in engineering?"

"She checks in on Jack and Grunt after every mission, and she usually stops by before she heads back upstairs. Just the other day she bought us a T6-FBA coupling."

Donnely chimes in. "And cheated us at Skyllian Five. 'Take it easy on the rookie.' Still can't believe I fell for that."

Daniels laughs. "We owe her a little more than our pocket money."

I don't get it. "A T6-FBA coupling wouldn't improve the capability of the ship."

"It cut way down on maintenance times, though," says Daniels. "It was really nice of her."

Shepard. Doing something nice. For Cerberus? "How long have you two been with Cerberus?"

"Um…" She looks back at Donnely. "Over a year now, at least. We were recruited for the Normandy's construction."

"We joined a couple months after Shepard died," says Donnely. "We couldn't work for the Alliance anymore after they disavowed her and threw away everything she stood for."

"You're former Alliance?"

"Yeah," says Daniels solemnly. "We were on the SSV Perugia at the Battle of the Citadel. We lost some friends that day."

"They died to buy us time against the reapers," says Donnely angrily, "and the Alliance is doing their best to make their sacrifice count for nothing."

"How can you work for Cerberus though?" I ask. "Cerberus kills Alliance soldiers."

"What?" says Daniels, alarmed.

"While we were chasing Saren we uncovered a Cerberus cell that led Alliance soldiers into thresher nests just so they could watch the thresher maws kill them."

I'm not so good at reading facial expressions but by their squirmy postures and uncomfortable silence I can tell that this is news to them. They didn't even know what they were getting into.

After a brief silence, Donnely says, slowly, "I joined so I could work for Shepard." He pauses again, and adds, with a laugh, "They didn't tell us they were bringing her back to life until the day before we launched, so I'm working for her in a more literal sense than I expected."

Even if they didn't know the full extent of what Cerberus is capable of, they had to have known it's a human supremacist group. I can't give them a pass just because they seem friendly. On my Pilgrimage I met more than a few people who I thought were kind, only to find out they had despicable prejudices against quarians.

…I miss Navigator Pressly.

But Shepard trusts these two, so I will too. Cautiously.

I don't start my first shift until tomorrow, so once I'm done touring the engineering deck I head straight for the crew quarters.

Garrus was right, they do have real beds. They're not exactly luxurious, but they're better than what most quarians get in the cramped quarters of the Migrant Fleet. I've made do with less and with more, Father being an admiral. One of the bunks, mine I guess, has a little, paper card tied to it with ribbon. In purple ink and big, loopy letters it reads, 'Welcome to the crew –Kelly.' She's asleep in the bunk across from mine.

I collapse onto the bed with a sigh. I really wish I could sleep, but there's something I need to do.

I open up my omni-tool interface. New document.

I shouldn't even be doing this. It's the Admiralty Board's responsibility. I just… they need to hear it from me.

'Dear Sen and Hesesh'Jorin, I am'

No. They are not Dear, this is not a greeting card.

'To the parents of Myr'Jorin, I am'

Not 'I am.' That makes it like it's about me.

'My name is Tali'Zorah vas Neema, and I led the unit where your son was killed on Haestrom'

Maybe I should ask Shepard how to do this.

* * *

'I regret'

No.

'I am sorry for your'

No.

'I understand what you must be'

No. Awful. Untrue.

I sigh. I've been at this an hour, and all I have is three sentences. I wanted to tell them the truth, but I can't bring myself to write the full story of how he died. They certainly won't hear that from the Admiralty Board. The Admiralty Board downplays disasters like Haestrom to preserve our sense of civic duty.

'My name is Tali'Zorah vas Neema, and I led the unit on Haestrom where Myr'Jorin died. I only served with Myr for a short time, but I was impressed by his bravery and his commitment to his people. He gave his life to get data that will one day bring us back to Homeworld, and we all honor his sacrifice.'

I am such a liar, but it works as-is. Send.

Falling asleep is easy. Staying asleep is impossible.

* * *

Author's Note: Next chapter will involve Jacob's loyalty mission and a heated debate with Kelly Chambers. Also, I make up a backstory for Kelly Chambers.


	2. Kelly and Jacob

Hunger wakes me up. I check my omni-tool; my alarm is set for fifteen minutes from now, so I have a little over a half an hour before I need to be ready. I yawn, stretch, and head for the mess.

The cook greets me loudly. "You're Tali'Zorah?"

"Yes."

"Commander told me you were coming. I'm afraid I don't have anything for you except sterilized nutrient paste. Never thought I'd be serving turians and quarians."

"Yeah." Go to hell. "That's fine." I take a tube of the nutrient paste and a bottle of distilled water to make it easier to swallow, and I sit at the end of the table farthest from him. There's no one else here to talk to, but I'm thankful for that right now.

This nutrient paste is awful – I can practically taste the malnutrition. I should update my NutriScan. And EnginMaster, because I'll need it for reference while I work. My translation software will have put out a few human language updates since the last time I was here, too. An out-of-date translator is an embarrassment waiting to happen. I remember Shepard used to have that problem. Like that time I told her my father's an admiral and she thought I was 'heir to the quarian throne.' If I were one to play pranks I could probably have gotten her to call me 'Your Royal Highness.' Or, during the Battle of the Citadel she apparently thought I said we should abandon the Destiny Ascension. That one was less funny.

What else do I need? Fix the ship, talk to people, blow things up. My combat systems are already up to date, so if I upgrade my translators and EnginMaster I should be all set. I should also get something for my downtime. It can get really boring living on a military ship, since the extranet connection is unreliable. And I've known enough marines to know the only two things they do in their free time: drink and masturbate. So I'll need a nerve-stim program and updated blood filters.

Someone calls my name. It's Kelly. "Good morning," she says cheerfully, setting down her breakfast and taking the seat across from me. "Did you sleep well?"

No. "Yes."

"Gabby gave you the tour?"

"Yes." I open my omni-tool, hoping she'll take the hint that I don't want to talk to her. Ever.

"Soooo…" She twirls her fork against her plate, making little scratching noises. "Commander Shepard said you had some trouble with the geth."

"Pretty much non-stop for over two years."

"I meant that your mission on Haestrom ran into some trouble."

Head down, focus on the omni-tool. "We got what we needed."

"Shepard said you lost a few friends."

How is that your business, Cerberus? "It happens."

She doesn't say anything more. I can't tell what her expression says, but she tries to hide it by staring intently at her breakfast. I feel a little guilty. A little.

I go back to checking my messages on my omni-tool, but my eyes are just scanning back and forth across the same line, not absorbing any of it. I shut it down.

I should at least be honest. "I get that you're trying to be nice, but Cerberus attacked the Flotilla and killed dozens of my people. I don't want to talk to any of you."

She takes a moment to think. The cook pretends he's busy and didn't hear me.

"I'm sorry that happened," says Kelly. "And so is everyone else here. We don't advocate terrorism."

Don't lie to me. "And yet you joined a terrorist group."

"We're an advocacy group, and we advocate humanity's interests by whatever means we have at our disposal."

Yes, any means. Guns. Bombs. Kidnapping. Poison. Rachni. Fake distress signals in thresher maw nests. "And how does killing my people advance human interests?"

"It doesn't, and like I said, all of us agree on that. Cerberus is changing, and this mission is proof of that. We want to protect people."

"So does the Alliance," I say. "And they don't bomb civilians."

She pauses again.

"I don't what life on the Flotilla is like," she says, "but I know how it is on Earth. Earth is divided up into hundreds of different countries, and if you're lucky, you're born in a wealthy one. In wealthy countries you work all hours of the day for almost no pay, but at the end of the day at least you can afford to feed yourself. Meanwhile, corporations buy off your elected officials, who pass laws that keep you locked in poverty."

I can tell from her voice that she's trying not to get angry. It comes off as lecture more than a rant.

"If you're unlucky," she says, "you're born in a dictatorship, where you starve and die and no one cares. The Alliance…" A frustrated sigh. "Hundreds of thousands of humans have disappeared, and for months the Alliance did nothing at all. Because it was poor colonies in the Terminus Systems. If the Alliance can't make money off your taxes, they don't care if pirates kill you or slavers claim you."

I don't believe that for a second, but I'll bite. "And Cerberus is different?"

She nods. "Yeah. Cerberus doesn't care who you are or where you're born; if you're human, your life has value."

"They don't see as much value in quarian life."

She takes another hard look at her breakfast. "Yeah, well, I'm hoping our mission, and its multi-species crew, will show them that we're all on the same side."

We leave it there. I finish my nutrient paste quickly and start downloading the programs I need.

I sigh. She's right, at least about us being on the same side. "So… Where are you from, Kelly?"

She smiles. "I grew up near Vancouver, on Earth."

"Do you have family there?"

"My mother, she's a doctor, and my half-sister, she runs an animal shelter. They're…"

I interrupt. "What's a half-sister?"

She pauses, tilts her head. "It's when two people share one parent but not the other. My mom had my sister before she met my dad. Do quarians not have a word for that?"

"I don't think we have many of those at all." I guess I know a few people with half-siblings, mostly from my mother's generation. "Quarian parents have been restricted to one child since shortly after I was born. And there are additional dangers associated with childbirth because of our immune systems."

"Huh," she says. "I guess it really varies by culture and species. I know that the krogan have different words for half-sibling based on whether they share a mother or a father, and the salarians have hundreds of words describing their exact familial relationships."

Now that we're on a tangent I remember that I didn't want to talk to her at all. Maybe I can wrap this up quickly. "So, you were saying about your family. Mother, sister… father?"

She shifts uncomfortably. "He, uh, we don't really talk anymore. He's in prison."

I don't know what to say to that.

"He and I," she says, "we disagree about Cerberus's role in the galaxy."

Meaning he's the sort of terrorist I just got done accusing her of being. I feel like such a bosh'tet right now.

"Sorry," she says. "Between your dossier and what the Commander tells me, I pretty much know all that stuff about you."

"No, that's fine. I… I'm sorry if I brought up anything that made you uncomfortable."

"Friends?" she says hopefully.

"Friends," I lie.

An extranet search of 'chambers human terrorist' leads me to Robert Chambers, dishonorably discharged from the Alliance Navy, then disappeared. Caught with Alliance-issue weapons while attempting to bomb a turian embassy three years ago. Kelly knows exactly what Cerberus really is… but what does that tell me about her?

* * *

Engineer Donnely is off-duty, leaving Daniels and I alone. Throughout the shift we mostly talk about the maintenance on the new armor and guns, and my ideas for upgrades to the shields. But in between technical talk we ask each other about family, personal history, she asks about my time on the first Normandy, I ask her about her previous military service. It turns out she's been working with Donnely her whole adult life. Considering how closely they've stuck together, I would've thought they were married, but they're just close friends. She joined Cerberus when he did, to keep him out of trouble. Which is what I'm doing for Shepard, in a way.

Shepard stops by a few hours in. She has a few questions about Haestrom, and she asks how I feel. I tell her I'm thankful she saved Kal'Reegar, but I'm upset about the others. I consider telling her about Myr'Jorin too, but I don't, can't bring myself to. I ask her about Cerberus, and she reassures me that she doesn't trust them. She tells me we're on route to a planet called Aeia. There may be evidence of what happened to Jacob's father, whose ship went missing ten years ago on a survey mission. She wants a tech expert in the field with her; I need to report to the armory within the hour.

Jacob briefs me on all the weapons we have available, and all the non-standard modifications Shepard has outfitted them with. His personal experience with each of the shotguns is helpful. He singles one out as being heavily favored by the crew – they call it 'the eviscerator.' Cerberus is a bloodthirsty bunch.

We're both ready a few minutes early, so I ask him some questions about the ship we're looking for. It's just a survey ship, it's not useful, it can't help our mission; we're going all this way, as far I can tell, purely as a favor to Jacob. This is something that Shepard does for her crew, and I'm starting to think she's bringing me to force me to get along with him.

I sigh. My dislike for him is less than my fear of letting Shepard down. "What was your father like?"

"He made a living on privately funded survey missions for colonization and resource development. The job involves a lot of travel and little pay. Not good for a family man. Eventually he and I had a falling out over it. He did it to support us, though, and he never shied away from that responsibility." He shrugs. "What about you? Do you have any family?"

"I'm an only child. My mother passed away… almost eight years ago. She was a mechanic – she really encouraged my passion for engineering. She was very kind, but very shy. She let me get away with anything. My father is an admiral. His duties kept him away when I was growing up. On the rare occasions I got to spend time with him he'd just give me a speech about the importance of discipline and aspiring to be my best."

"Yeah, yeah." He chuckles. "And I bet you love him, respect him, and hate his guts."

"Pretty much."

"I know that feeling."

"Yeah."

It could be because I've actually slept, but he seems like less of a bosh'tet today.

* * *

The ship is totaled, and anything that might have been useful has been torn out. The distress beacon is close by, along a dirt path. It gives us some more information, but it must be malfunctioning. It says its repair was complete a year after the crash, but it wasn't activated until now, remotely, by Jacob's father, who assumed command of the crew after the ship crashed. It also explains how the local wildlife causes 'neural decay' in those who eat it. Jacob wonders if his father was affected by the neural decay, and maybe that could explain why the beacon wasn't activated. We continue up the path so we can look for survivors.

We find a woman, screaming nonsense. The neural decay has affected her badly – she's worse than some of the indoctrinated salarians we found on Virmire. She recognizes Jacob as having 'his face,' and warns us about 'the hunters' who will try to kill us.

And they do. Shepard barely has enough time to push the woman into cover before a group of her crewmates open fire on us. They scream more nonsense, something about 'agents of the liar.'

I project my attack drone behind them; they turn on it with an irrational hatred, destroying it within a few seconds, giving me and Jacob barely enough time to move up to shotgun range and get into cover. When they turn their attention onto us, Shepard brings one down with a single disruptor round through the head. With the stopping power of her rifle, our shotguns, and Jacob's biotics, the 'hunters' go down quickly.

Somehow I don't think 'neural decay' is an adequate way to describe these people's state of mind. Shepard tries for a few moments to get the woman to calm down, with no success. She continues to babble her nonsense, refuses to even move, but Shepard is reluctant to leave her.

I remember on Virmire, Shepard wouldn't leave any of the indoctrinated captives behind. Even the ones who were obviously going to shoot us, without even waiting for us to turn our backs. Even the ones where there was nothing left of them, that were better off dead.

Shepard stands, and the woman recoils like she expects to be hit. Shepard doesn't say anything, just stares down at the babbling, incoherent woman for a few seconds. I look away, as if Shepard might want privacy.

I'm as disturbed by this as Shepard, I just really want to get moving.

We make our way to a camp, probably a dozen or more survivors, all of them calm, all of them… women? Shepard suggests that the neural decay makes the men hostile and the women docile. They don't react well to Jacob's presence. Apparently his father forced them to eat the toxic food. There's also a massive statue of him, two stories tall, made of scrap metal. The women say that they 'serve' him and 'please' him so that he will bring them home to the sky.

'Please' him.

The ship's doctor stops us on our way out, and gives us a datapad with a record of what happened here. They made little progress on the beacon before their food stores became an issue, and Captain Taylor had what remained rationed out among just the officers, so that at least someone would stay sane long enough to help everyone else. Jacob sees some sense in that decision. I'd starve before I forced this on other people. The decision caused a mutiny; the male crew were all killed or exiled. Then the officers started trading the women amongst themselves. A year in, Captain Taylor turned on his officers, too, and left the completely functional distress beacon to rust.

Keeping innocent women as his worshippers and slaves… this is an atrocity.

We're contacted by Captain Taylor himself on our way up the path. He has some bullshit story about how none of this is his fault, how his people went mad and attacked him. He actually thinks he can get away with this. Doesn't he realize the evidence of his depravity is _everywhere?_

His makeshift base is defended by mechs and a group of men. He lies, calls them his guards, says it took years to train them. We fight our way through them.

When we finally reach Captain Taylor, he shows no remorse, and takes no responsibility. He seems to think he isn't accountable for his own decisions because he made them under pressure. Jacob disowns him, says that his father is long dead, that this man isn't him. Captain Taylor's fate is up to Shepard.

Even though I know it's what Shepard would want, we quarians don't believe in long-term imprisonment. I tighten my grip on my shotgun. I'd like to see just how well the eviscerator lives up to its name.

Shepard takes a long moment to consider. I think in her heart she wants him dead as badly as I do, but I know she never lets feelings like that influence her judgment. We're leaving him for the Alliance to take into custody.

* * *

It's a quiet shuttle ride. Jacob doesn't want to talk, and I don't blame him. This was shocking and horrible, and it can only get worse the more I think about it. I wish I could do something for him. To think that as a child he loved that man, to know in retrospect that every time he told his father he loved him he was talking to a murderer, that every time he hugged his father he was being held by a _rapist_. I'm sure a lot the memories that once made him happy will now make him sick.

How could anyone stay strong after learning their father is a monster?

Shepard removes her helmet and leans her head against the shuttle wall. She looks exhausted. "Tali," she says softly. "Do you remember Talitha?"

Talitha was a girl from Mindoir, who was captured in the slave raid that killed Shepard's parents. Years later she escaped to the Citadel, where Shepard talked her out of a suicide attempt. "Yes, I remember her."

Shepard whispers something to herself, but I only make out the word 'remember.'

"Shepard?"

"She sent me an email a while back, told me how she was doing. She's in school, she likes her doctors, she's getting better." She closes her eyes for just a moment before she speaks again. "She asked me to help other people like her."

"I'm glad she's doing well. You should be proud," I say.

"That woman we found on the beach," says Shepard, "someday she'll be able to look Ronald Taylor in the eye and tell him she's not afraid of him. That he can't hurt her. That he's scum. That he's nothing. She'll be able to say whatever she wants to him. She can scream. She can cry. She could even forgive him, if she wanted. But it'll be her choice. She deserves that choice. They all do."

Jacob nods. "Thanks, Shepard."

I wish I could _believe_ the way Shepard does.

* * *

Garrus and I make conversation over sterilized nutrient paste in the mess. He tells me he tried to go back to C-Sec, but left again, went to Omega, spent his time killing criminals and corrupt mercenaries. I ask him if he's alright, but he doesn't want to talk about it, makes a joke about his face. I tell him about the end of my Pilgrimage, my acceptance onto the Neema, my new responsibilities, Freedom's Progress. He asks if I'm alright, but I don't want to talk about it. I think about Myr'Jorin's face.

I head for the crew quarters. I don't sleep very well.

* * *

I check my messages. I've been charged with treason. I start my shift in engineering.

* * *

Author's Note: I don't remember Kelly being given any backstory. Let me know if I'm wrong. And while you're at it, review! I love reviews and constructive criticism. Expect this story to update once a week from now on, and please continue to read. Up next is Miranda and the collector ship.


	3. Miranda and Harbinger

Shepard stops by later. I tell her about the treason charge. I have no idea what they're accusing me of, but they wouldn't do it unless they were absolutely certain I'm guilty – it wasn't so long ago that they were calling me a hero. Falsely accusing me would be a nightmare for them.

Exile. That's what I'm looking at if I'm convicted. No contact with my friends or family, thrown out by the people I've dedicated years of my life to protecting. I'd have nothing. No one.

Shepard wants to be there for the trial. With all she's done for me already, I didn't even think of asking her. I have no idea what I'll be facing at the trial, and with the consequences so dire… I'll have Shepard, at least. But it will have to wait.

Shepard has a lead on a disabled collector ship. Our objective is to learn whatever we can from it, so she wants me on her team for technical analysis.

On the shuttle over I'm reintroduced to Miranda, from Freedom's Progress. Fair skin, brown hair, asari blue eyes, perfect, curvy features, and an outfit that would make a leather-clad asari commando look like a shy quarian grandmother with a fear of intimacy by comparison. She's a biotic with some tech skills, and her posture and body language scream 'I'm better than you, don't talk to me.' She's also second-in-command, reporting directly to the Illusive Man. It was her idea to send Veetor to Cerberus interrogation. If it had gone that way I might be strangling her right now. I still might.

She is a poor substitute for Kaidan. For all their fanaticism, I can't picture any of these Cerberus types staying behind to hold the line. And Kaidan had the sense to wear armor and a helmet.

"Unless the life support was disabled we're likely to encounter resistance," says Miranda. "In light of that, Commander, are you sure it's wise to bring Tali?

"Excuse me? I –"

Shepard cuts me off. "Tali's abilities are not in question. And I trust her to have my back."

"I understand that, Commander," says Miranda, "but she has no prior experience against collectors and her dossier suggests she has few countermeasures against biotic barriers or husks."

"I _know_ how to kill husks."

"These new husks are outfitted with heavy armor."

"The old ones had tech armor that _exploded._ And as for barriers," I add acidly, "I seem to remember a few biotics in the Cerberus bases we raided."

The implication that I've killed people like Miranda is lost on no one.

"Enough! Both of you," says Shepard, gaze firmly fixed on _me._ "We're all here because we have the same goal: stopping the Reapers. And while we may disagree on how to achieve that goal, I'm certain that we can't do it unless we work together." She relaxes, sighs, and does that judgmental, folded-arms pose-thing she does. "You two are here because you're capable, motivated, and trustworthy. And neither of you will forget that, understood?"

"Yes, Commander."

"Yes, Shepard."

* * *

The ship seems to be built from a hollowed-out asteroid. I don't understand why they would do that; the asteroid components have less structural integrity than a traditional hull and they can't be made airtight. They would have to compensate with a more powerful mass effect field, and the energy cost of that would be enormous. Plus the rock is less conductive than metal, which would limit the effectiveness of heat sinks. Sure, they can solve all of that with reaper tech, but the fact they built it out of rock at all seems to suggest they have limited resources.

Inside it feels like an underground cave, with rock and dirt filling out the spaces between the machinery. I half expect rachni to come crawling out of the floor, all the more so because there is no one here. Where are the collectors?

One of the walls is covered in a veiny structure that's not quite a web – it's hardened, as if it's petrified. There are also these large, glowing, bulbous, honeycombed growths across the ceiling. They look sort of like bushels of brown fruit, with little glowing seeds embedded just at the outside of the flesh. On some of them the seeds have burst and the fruit is decomposing, dripping clear fluid that clumps like saliva. The seeds seem like egg sacs, but they're too small for something as large as a collector.

Normandy's AI identifies the ship as the same one that abducted the colonists from Horizon, and points us toward an active control console. Along the way we find open coffins – fleshy, metallic exoskeletons covering hollow, plastic, glowing… wombs – and piles of dead human bodies that seem to be… partly liquefied. One of the bodies on the top, his face is all burned and ashy, and halfway melted…

…plasma burns and lacerations from the superheated shards of glass ripping through his flesh. His final, pained cries lost to the vacuum.

I shut my eyes. Myr'Jorin is dead. I need to focus.

Miranda wonders why the dead colonists were left to rot on the floor. We know that the collectors typically run tests on their victims – these people were probably killed and discarded at the conclusion of the experiment. Shepard simply says that they didn't deserve this, and Miranda says that, 'Too few in life ever get what they deserve.' What is that supposed to mean?

We reach the console, and it's hooked up to coffin with a dead collector inside. The information I was given about collector morphology wasn't very thorough; this is the closest look I've had at one. It's shaped like a normal humanoid with two arms and two legs, but it has a series of vestigial pincers pinned to its sides. Its muscles are exposed, only partly covered by its chitinous exoskeleton, which comes to long, sharp points at its fingers and toes. It… doesn't have a face, except for its four round eyes that are bioluminescent like a quarian's. Its head has a strange backward slope to it that's unlike any animal I've ever seen.

The AI explains that the collectors are running genetic comparison studies between themselves and the human colonists. From the data it determines the collectors are descended from protheans, twisted by reaper cloning and genetic modification. If we fail, will the reapers keep us, too, as husk slaves for the next fifty-thousand years?

Nearby is an overturned locker full of confiscated weapons, not all of them human. Shepard takes one that I recognize as a geth design, the widow. Why would the collectors have this, and where did they get it? Are they trying to analyze our technology as well?

But… if the collectors had contact with the geth, why didn't they join Saren in the Battle of the Citadel? They've been seen in our galaxy before, so they weren't in dark space. Why wouldn't Sovereign have gone to them for help?

I suppose it doesn't matter right now. We continue along the winding corridors.

More coffins hang from the ceiling, most of them sealed shut and glowing orange.

"There must be hundreds of them," says Miranda. "How many do you think are full?"

"Too many," says Shepard, audibly gritting her teeth.

The AI explains that there are no life signs. If there was anyone in there, they died when the ship was disabled.

The ground starts sloping uphill, taking us higher and closer to the interior of the ship. Joker comms us. According to the AI this is the same ship that destroyed the SR1. Shepard finds that suspicious. The dossiers mentioned that the collectors had 'interest in Shepard personally.' Is this what that meant, that they're after her specifically?

We enter a wide, cylindrical chamber – it must be most of the interior of the ship – so massive and so long that the dust particles floating off the rock completely obscure both ends. Great, stone pillars the size of Presidium office buildings reach upward toward the center. And the tens, maybe hundreds of thousands of coffins lining the walls take only the tiniest fraction of the total space. They aren't going to stop at human colonists in the Terminus Systems… their plans are far more ambitious than we feared.

I point out the control console we're looking for, in a little alcove surrounded by heavy machinery. Wide tubes surround the platform, pumping hot gases upward, as if powering turbines or venting the core… but something's wrong. _Veins,_ actual, blood-pumping, organic veins are growing on the inside face of the glass.

"Where are the bodies of the collector crew?" asks Miranda. "Careful, Shepard, something doesn't feel right about this."

She's right. Many of the systems have been restored, so they should have seen us coming – even if their sensors and alarms are still offline, they would be extra vigilant for intruders. If anyone was still alive, they would have swarmed us already. But we've only found two bodies, and no evidence to suggest the crew was killed. They're hiding around a corner somewhere.

Shepard connects the console to the Normandy, and it's only a few seconds before everything goes haywire. The console flashes brightly, forcing me to cover my eyes. The machinery around us starts moving, and the force shakes the ground.

Shepard checks in with Joker. It was a trap meant to overload all the Normandy's systems. The AI did its job well in diverting the overload and protecting the ship. Not sure how I feel about that.

I catch one in the corner of my eye. The collectors are moving in.

The floor beneath us shoots upward. This is bad – with the amount of thrust on this platform they could launch us into the ceiling and crush us. It starts spinning, faster and faster. I have to hold on to the console or I'll be thrown off the side.

Shepard shifts her footing and says, with stoic understatement, "We need a little help here, EDI."

"I am having trouble maintaining connection," it says. "There is someone else in the system."

The platforms upward momentum slows, and the spin slams to a halt. I help Miranda up off the floor. They could have killed us there, but instead they have us floating in the middle of the chamber and stranded. They want us – want Shepard – alive.

They're coming, I count at least four of them, flying in on a pair of platforms. They're coming slowly but at an angle, to break line of sight. We won't be able to hit them until they're right on top of us.

The AI manages to reconnect to their archives. Once it has all their data it can configure an attack program to get us out of here. I hope it works; if the AI fails to override their systems I'll have to do it from this console while under fire.

The platforms land. On the far one is a bulbous, blue and gray monstrosity that I recognize from the dossiers. A scion, a collection of husk parts glued together and outfitted with a large arm cannon that fires powerful, biotic shockwaves. Nearer to us are two collector drones, and a guardian – a larger collector with a gray carapace, an extra pair of eyes under its 'normal' four, two thick antennae like demonic horns attached to its swollen, oversized head, and a heavy, semi-circular blade strapped to its forearm. Shepard directs us to take out the drones as quickly as possible, while she sets the sights of her widow on the scion.

This computer console is poor cover; we'll all be killed if we try to huddle up so close here. I need to move up. I leap the console –

That shockwave, I feel it in my lungs and in my teeth. Kinetic barriers are down, but I at least I don't have to worry about a puncture… It would sooner shatter my mask or my ribs. I manage to get one shot off before ducking immediately back into cover on the edge of the platform. The eviscerator takes the drone's barrier down in one shot, allowing Miranda to take it out with a barrage of headshots from her SMG. I need to regenerate my shields, but I need to give her cover; I set Chatika up behind the guardian as a distraction.

I can hear the rhythm of the widow. _Pow_-woah. Kit-chit. _Pow_-woah. Kit-chit. I think I heard that sound in my nightmares once.

Miranda's already taken out the second drone, but the guardian got Chatika and now has a shield blocking our fire. The dossiers warned me about this – the guardian is lifted off its feet like it's being strangled by a krogan battlemaster, bright, biotic fire bursting out of its shell.

A deep, metallic voice invades my skull. "Assuming control." We felt this on Virmire, that headache you get when a reaper speaks.

Our guns and her biotics burn through Harbinger's barriers quickly. The dossier said that the transformation reinforces its armor – I hear Miranda shout, 'Switching side arms.' I do the same. Harbinger pays no notice to our fire as he closes in on my position slowly, throwing his biotic warp fields at Shepard. My omni-tool is recycling, I don't have Chatika.

He's close.

He's in arm's reach.

The scion is down. Shepard puts a warp round through Harbinger's head, disintegrating him into black ash. "You only delay the inevitable."

With more platforms flying in on the opposite side, Shepard orders us both to move up.

The AI updates us on its progress. Shepard tells it to hurry, but it's tasked to capacity fighting off the collectors. It needs to pull through – I might have a concussion from that shockwave and I'm not confident in my ability to hack unfamiliar systems with scions shooting at me.

Same plan as before, we focus fire on the drones while Shepard wears down the scion, this time with the platform flying back and forth from ten- to two-o-clock. Harbinger comes back too quickly, and an enemy sniper is trying to keep us pinned. I use Chatika to keep us from getting swarmed, but she only buys us a few seconds.

Beside me I hear Miranda swearing as biotic flames burn her skin, and before I can react a biotic explosion knocks us both out of cover. Shepard takes her eye off the scion to give us some covering fire and stop them from finishing us off.

Shepard gives us an order, but I can't hear it over the ringing in my ears. Back in cover, I watch as she fires on Harbinger, and I take that as my cue to do the same. I take aim with my pistol, but there are more biotic attacks flying at our position. Miranda makes a run for it, ducking back behind the control console next to Shepard. I can't move without giving the sniper line of sight on me. The biotic explosion sends me to floor, breathless.

Above me I hear, "I will tear you," cut off by a rifle round.

The sniper breaks through my shields and puts a big scorch mark on my chest before I manage to pull myself out of the way. Ancestors, that beam is hot; I can feel my skin blistering against the inside of my suit. The internal medical systems will handle it, but I absolutely cannot get hit like that again.

Harbinger doesn't come back, and Shepard and Miranda pick them off one by one until only the scion is left. Shepard's out of ammo for her sniper rifle, and this pistol's slow rate of fire doesn't make it easy to hit the scion as its platform strafes around us. I need to move up to get a good shot.

The scion's cannon recoils, and I see the shockwave coming at me. It's slow, clearly visible, and on a narrow path. I easily dodge it to the side –

I hear Shepard shout something, and I'm on the ground, spitting blood into my facemask. Did I bite my tongue or did it knock my teeth out? And how the hell did it still hit me? Slow, clearly visible, easily dodged… Keelah, I feel so stupid right now.

The scion is down and Shepard is quickly at my side to help me up.

"Sorry, tried to warn you," she says, a little lightheartedly. "Can't dodge those shockwaves. It's fucking bullshit."

Sounds like the same thing happened to Shepard. That's reassuring, I guess. Miranda doesn't comment, though I imagine she wants to. I get a quick moment to catch my breath while Shepard picks through the dead for fresh thermal clips. When she's ready she reconnects the console to the Normandy.

An image of EDI appears above the console. "I have regained control of the platform, Shepard."

Relieved, Shepard answers, "I knew you wouldn't let us down, EDI."

Cerberus has an AI that can outsmart the most technologically advanced race in the galaxy. This is not cause for relief.

"I found data that could help us successfully navigate the Omega 4 relay," says the AI. "I have also found the turian distress call that served as the lure for this trap. The collectors were the source. It is unusual." It explains that the fake distress signal was flawed. "It is not possible that the Illusive Man would believe the distress call was genuine."

So that's it. We haven't even started our suicide mission and already Cerberus has betrayed us. I can't say exactly what the Illusive Man hoped to gain by this – money, technology, weapons, _simple enjoyment _ – but my best guess is that he hoped the price on Shepard's head was more than the cost of reviving her. I think he meant to flip her like real estate, the sick bastard.

Shepard is not happy. "That son of a bitch sent us right into collector hands."

"We should have known this would happen." Or, rather, we did know this would happen. "Cerberus can't be trusted."

"There has to be some other explanation!" says Miranda. "The Illusive Man wouldn't do this to us. He… he just wouldn't!"

Gabby, Kenneth, and Kelly were fooled by a mix of lies, naiveté, and ignorance, but this is a level of delusion far beyond that. This is _exactly_ what Cerberus does, and as one of their higher-ups, she knows it. How does she lie to herself so completely?

But there's no time to argue. The ship is powering up, and we need to get out of here before their weapons destroy the Normandy.

Down the hall is a small observation area; the windows span all the way from the floor to the high ceiling, and through them I can see a large cavern and a massive door that looks like it's been hacked open. That's probably a storage area – missions just don't feel complete without a storage area. Flip around in the Mako, storm a pirate base, have a shootout in a big room full of junk.

A token force of drones fly in; because of the small size of the observation room we're able to take them out quickly.

A ramp takes us to a long, narrow path around the edge of storage, through at least a dozen collectors. The shape of the room will help keep them in front of us, but cover is tenuous and they have snipers on an elevated path to the left.

They keep me and Miranda mostly pinned down, meaning Shepard and her tactical cloak have to do most of the work, and there are just too many enemies swarming in for her to keep up.

There are three husks coming at us now. Red husks, on fire. The dossiers didn't suggest any significant morphological changes between the husks used by the collectors and the ones used by the geth. These are definitely new.

My shotgun doesn't do a damn thing – the eviscerator doesn't have even a fraction of the armor-penetration or stopping power that the old Spectre Master Gear had. Chatika, too, does nothing. They don't turn, they don't stop, they barely flinch. The burning husks are almost to us, and I have to keep them away from Shepard, even if it means jumping in front of them with nothing but my pistol.

Shepard takes one out with a headshot, its headless body staying upright for a moment before collapsing, and with an incineration tech from her omni-tool she burns the armor off the other two. My shotgun is able to shred one and send it to the floor, but the third leaps onto Miranda, hooking its legs around her hips, clawing at her face, taking a bite out of the arm she raises to defend herself. My omni-tool is recharging, I can't shoot at her… there's nothing I can do.

Something hits me in the back of the head – that husk survived my shotgun blast. I turn and shoot, and it explodes, setting me and Shepard on fire, messing up her shot intended to save Miranda. Miranda is down, and Shepard kills the husk before it takes even a step toward us.

We can't afford to delay getting Miranda's injuries treated – collector drones advance on our position without regard to their own lives, walking right through our suppressing fire.

They keep sending reinforcements, fortifying the path above us, throwing everything they have at us, holding us here while the Normandy's destruction looms closer and closer. Our position makes it all the harder to kill them quickly, and it takes us three Harbingers before we finally manage to break through their lines and into storage.

The dossiers did not prepare me for this…

* * *

Author's Note: I tried to keep my descriptions of the collectors true to ME2, ME3 multiplayer, and my own experience playing the games (screw ME2 scions, the cheating bastards). Since guardians look the same as drones, I tried to make them distinct by describing them as ME3 captains. And obviously this is on Hardcore difficulty or above, where the husks have armor and are impossibly hard (that dead reaper can take its IFF and shove it up its cloaca, or whatever squids have).

Author's Other Note: I think I said to expect this fic to update weekly. Don't do that. I'm a slow writer. If you would like to continue reading, consider Following the story, so that you will be sent a spam email whenever I update. Otherwise you can favorite, and I would love it a lot if you did. And I would appreciate it more than anything if you could spare five mintues out of your day to let me know what you think of the story, whether it's good, bad, okay, meh, the worst thing ever, or anything else. I'd like to improve my writing skills, and any suggestions, criticisms, or advice you can offer will help me with that.

Author's Other Other Note: Whenever I try to set the fic's characters to Tali, Shepard, Garrus, Kelly, they're automatically reordered to Shepard, Garrus, Tali, Kelly. Am I doing something wrong, or is that an intentional feature? Feel free to PM me if you know.


	4. Everything Hurts

The praetorian. A massive, flying bug made of metal shell barely held together by sickly gray flesh. Its head is wide, short, and sloped, like a krogan's head halfway flattened by a rolling pin. Wide armor plates like serrated talons wrap around its shoulders, from which four legs like undulating spikes hang limply. It has two mouths; between its four blue eyes is a thin, horned beak, and beneath that is a deep, gaping maw that makes up most of the volume of its body. That maw flaps open and closed as if licking its lips, and from it stare out many husk heads, suspended upside-down and with mouths open in final expressions of impotent horror. _Dozens_ of people were twisted by reaper tech to make this monstrosity.

We need to reach that door as quickly as possible, but it's far too dangerous to run out into the open with the praetorian firing its powerful particle beams at us. A few husks and drones are running in, and the praetorian continues to drift slowly in our direction. We have the high ground at the top of two ramps, but our position won't be safe for long.

Shepard activates her cloak, and the praetorian stops firing just long enough for her to put a widow round through its mouth. It lets out a shriek like a rusted junk ship making a turn too tight for its inertial dampeners, and brings up a bright white kinetic barrier.

"Move!" says Shepard, pointing to the near corner on the left side of the room. "Bottom of the ramp! Stay out of its reach and don't panic!"

Miranda and I make a run for it, while Shepard heads completely the other way, setting herself up between a tall pillar and the wall of the corner opposite us. That makes great cover for her, but the praetorian is close to us and, with its barriers charged, heading in our direction. The dossiers stressed that this thing is inescapably deadly at close range – what is she thinking?

It pauses, ignoring us completely, before turning its particle beams on Shepard, slowly advancing on her position. While it focuses on her, the husks and drones charge us. Fortunately they didn't come in force and we're able to take them out before they reach close quarters. This room is wide and accessible; they could hit us with everything they have, but instead they're coming less than five at a time. Maybe they're stalling, or maybe our AI is locking down all their routes in.

The praetorian is almost on top of Shepard now. "Get ready," she says. "When I cloak it'll turn on you."

Miranda switches to her SMG. "We'll give you covering fire."

Shepard counts us down from three, and we open fire, the praetorian's large body soaking up every pellet of my shotgun's spray. With its attention off her, she runs for cover behind some machinery in the center of the room. She's much closer to our escape route, but if they send more reinforcements she'll be surrounded.

She breaks cloak to fire on the praetorian, shifting its focus, and all the danger, back onto her. "Head for the door," she says.

It slams shut on us.

There's only two ways out now: a sealed door behind us, or back the way we came. Neither way involves bypassing the bug. But its crap threat assessment and lack of stealth detection are weaknesses that we can exploit. It can try to get us in its kill zone all it wants – we know we can fool it with Shepard's cloak.

For several minutes we all dance around it, each of us suffering occasional burns from its unrelenting particle fire. I try stay in front of Miranda; I'm a little better protected and her biotics are far more useful here than my tech. If I'm not all that helpful at least I can be bait.

Finally with a rifle round through its screeching mouth the praetorian breaks apart and dissolves into ash.

In the next room we find the collectors waiting for us, with snipers and red husks. We're barely over the threshold before they force us into the only cover available: the stasis pod coffins lying around the floor. And it is exceptionally bad cover – far too short, and I'm almost lying down just to keep my head out of the line of fire.

We need to move and Shepard knows it, taking stupid risks to hit them quickly, firing without waiting for her shields to regenerate. She takes a few hits for it… I've never heard her scream like that. It pays off, though, and we're able to rush into good cover in high ground.

It looks like they're going to send more reinforcements to the door; there's a scion there now. I set Chatika on it and it goes into some sort of melee attack cycle.

Something hits me hard in the back, taking down my shields. I turn to see a collector taking another swing at me with its heavy arm blade, this time cracking my ceramic armor layer and probably a rib. I fire my shotgun, stunning it. Again, sending it flying. Miranda is grappling with a drone, but Shepard has Harbinger. She fires her rifle point-blank into his face, I with my shotgun into his back. Shepard is on fire and stunned. I reload and fire again, but his chitinous armor absorbs it too well. After I've emptied the entire clip into him he hasn't flinched or in any way stopped attacking her. Her omni-tool flashes, keeping her on her feet with a large dose of medi-gel. She clubs him in the face with her rifle, hits him with an incineration tech, Miranda gets a shot in with her pistol. He's done, shrivels up and burns away.

Then I'm floored by the scion's shockwave.

My suit is beeping all kinds of alarms, the VI's flashing warnings and damage readouts. About ten meters up there's a large hole in the wall that looks like it leads down a hallway. That's how they ambushed us. Just a hallway that ends ten meters off the ground. Keelah everything hurts. Shepard and Miranda are working on the scion, but they'll be a while.

To be hit out of nowhere and turn to see an enemy about to take your life… isn't that the worst feeling? Ancestors keep Myr'Jorin vas Neema nar Ghrigult, take his body to Homeworld, lay him to rest in the desert grass. Honor his sacrifice, saving my unworthy life.

I feel the tears running across the bridge of my nose, my temple, into my hair. _Keelah everything hurts._

Soon Shepard is at my side with medi-gel and a hand to help me up. There's no time to catch my breath. The Normandy is still in danger.

We're so close.

I hear husks snarling down the hallway. A lot of them. They're coming, dozens of them, normal blues and fiery reds. I switch to my pistol – I'm in no condition for close quarters.

There's too many, advancing too fast, we can't kill them quickly enough. They're on us, Miranda first, then –

I raise my left arm in time, blocking its bite, but its momentum knocks me to the ground; with my only free arm holding a pistol I can't adequately catch my fall and I hit my head _hard._ It's clawing at my mask, trying to pry it off, trying to break it open. I think I manage to put a round or two into its gut before the thermal clip overheats. It puts its face directly over mine, shining fire from its mouth and eyes. Miranda is down, there are so many I can't see Shepard…

The husk's head bursts, spraying my mask with noxious black blood and teeth. In the corner of my eye I see Shepard shimmer out of her cloak.

A few seconds later the husks are doused, frozen, and shattered by heavy weaponry.

* * *

I'm finally starting to feel my suit's painkillers. A little dazed, I set my guns down wherever and watch as Shepard replaces all her weapons in the locker. Rifle, SMG, pistol, heavy weapon – I never noticed before, but she might be carrying her own weight in guns and armor.

"I don't understand it," says Miranda, beside me. She's covered in scratches, bites, and burns, already healing by medi-gel. "The Illusive Man would do anything to stop the reapers. The only reason he would betray us is if he thought it would somehow delay them… but Cerberus went to great lengths to keep your body away from the collectors in the first place, and we're too valuable as assets."

"Too valuable?" I bite. "We can certainly tell ourselves that."

Shepard cuts off Miranda's reply. "I'll ask him myself. You two will have Dr. Chakwas take a look at your wounds. Make it quick. When I'm done we'll all need to discuss this together."

* * *

The whole ground team packs into the conference room. I don't recognize all of them. Garrus, Miranda, Jacob, Jack, Grunt from engineering level, Mordin from the research lab, a slim human woman dressed in black with her face covered by a hood, an older human man in mercenary armor with a lot of facial scarring, an asari in bright red armor and gold jewelry, and one other whose species I don't even recognize.

Shepard starts, calm, tired. "Today was one of the toughest fights I've ever experienced, but we made it through with no casualties. We learned that we need an identify friend/foe system to make it through the Omega-4 relay, and we know where to find one. By any metric, today was a major victory. It was also a trap, designed to capture or kill every one of us. One that the Illusive Man knowingly let us walk right into without even a warning."

"That's how it is with Cerberus," says Jack. "Even when you do what they want they still try to screw you over."

"It was nothing personal," says Miranda.

Jack leans across the table at her. "I don't really give a fuck."

"If we'd known it was trap we could've prepared for it," I say. "We might have done things differently." Sent different people with more experience. Left me on the ship.

"Maybe," says Miranda, folding her arms. "We don't know how the collectors gather intelligence, but from the way they hit the most vulnerable colonies it seems they're good at it. If they knew we found out about the trap, they might have aborted and we'd have missed our opportunity."

"That's an awfully speculative thing to bet all our lives on," I say.

"We had to spring this trap no matter what the risk," says Shepard. "If they had aborted they would've tried baiting us some other way. Probably by attacking another colony."

She can't possibly be trying to justify this deception. Shepard is honest with her people, she treats us like equals, she would never lie to us like this, never use us like this. She can't be going along with these Cerberus lies. I don't believe it. I look to Garrus for help. He sees me, doesn't say anything.

Shepard pauses, waits for objections. None follow. "Any risk that gets us closer to the collector homeworld is one that we have to take. If this is news to you, then it's my fault for not communicating the stakes to you properly, and for letting you on the ship." She stares us all down, then dismisses us so she can discuss acquiring the IFF with Miranda and Jacob.

Why am I even here? I have tech skills, I fight in close quarters, I kill husks, and my tech skills were near useless, I failed in close quarters, I failed against husks… I failed on Freedom's Progress. I failed on Haestrom. Today was our toughest battle and the most useful thing I was… was _bait_.

Has the fight outgrown me?

* * *

_Author's note: I don't know when the next update will be, so if you like the fic and don't want to miss the next chapter, consider Following, so that you'll be sent a spam email whenever I update. Or you can Favorite it and check back at your convenience._

_By now you've read thousands of words that I've written. Could you spare a few minutes and write a hundred or so words for me? I love receiving constructive criticism. What are some things about the fic that you think need improvement? How do you think I could improve those things?_


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